


The Accolade

by MediumSizedEvil



Series: Adventures in Roleplaying [1]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 06:02:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18585262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MediumSizedEvil/pseuds/MediumSizedEvil
Summary: “What if everyone in the Royal Family had died except you, and only Rex Buckingham could protect you?”Jake & Amy roleplay as Queen Amelia and Rex Buckingham, on Her Majesty's Secret Service. In a mountain range.





	The Accolade

"So here we are, in a desolate hut in the Cairngorns mountain range," he said, as he unlocked the door to the cabin and held it open to her.

"Cairngorms," she corrected primly as she walked past him to go inside.

"In this mountain range," he continued, "where the assassins who murdered your whole family will never find you." He went in after her and closed the door.

She was standing in the middle of the small one room cabin, turning up her nose and sniffing at the dust. "It's quite shabby." 

He bit his tongue. "You'll be safe here."

She held out her hand to him. "Gloves," she said curtly.

"Im a Secret Agent, not a lady's maid," he bristled.

"Well I don't see anyone else here, do you?" she asked indignantly.

"Then please take them off yourself," he replied with false politeness. "Or not. Whatever you prefer."

She slumped down into a ratty armchair in the corner and kicked her feet against the faded upholstery like a petulant child. She plucked at her gloves, not wanting to admit defeat, but also uncomfortably hot. She shot daggers at him as he hung up his coat and straightened his tuxedo.

He turned around. "I'll take your coat," he offered, "as a gentleman."

She got up sullenly from the chair and let him help her out of her coat, quietly slipping off her gloves in the process. "I'm glad they were able to teach you _some_ manners," she said haughtily as he hung up her coat, looking at him as if he was lower than pond scum. Then she leaned against the rickety table in her expensive silk dress and looked around. "What a dump."

"I'm so sorry it doesn't meet with your approval, Your Highness, but it was rather last-minute," he said acerbically.

"It's 'Your Majesty' now. My father is dead."

"Yes, and I'm sorry for your loss."

She turned up her nose. "I hated him. And my mother and my sister. I'm glad they're dead."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Your Highness," he said dryly.

"It's 'Your Majesty'!"

"Of course, Ma'am."

"I did not give you permission to call me Ma'am," she said icily, tapping her foot on the floor.

"Indeed not, Your Grace."

"I'm not a Duchess," she sneered.

"And you don't watch HBO."

She turned around majestically, skirt swishing, and went to look out of the window with her arms crossed and her back to him.

"Please get away from the window," he said.

"Don't tell me what to do."

"It's for your own safety," he added.

"I'll do as I please."

He sighed and walked towards her. He picked her up and dragged her away from the window while she struggled in his arms.

"Don't touch me!" She beat her fists against his chest. "How dare you!"

"This is my job," he said, "keeping you safe." He put her down. "Now stay here."

"You will treat me with respect!" she said furiously, straightening her dress.

"Why? Did you earn it?" he asked dismissively. "Just because you were born with a title? I don't even believe in the Monarchy."

"You swore an oath!"

He shrugged and leaned against the table. "I just wanted a cool job, shoot guns, pull birds. I'm a highly trained ballistics expert, yet here I am, babysitting a spoiled little princess."

"I am the Queen!" she yelled, stomping her foot.

He shook his head. "You should really get HBO."

She tapped a finger on his chest. "You take delight in vexing me. That's from Jane Austen, because I read books!"

"Oh you think you're better than me, just cause you can talk fancy?"

"I am better than you, because you're a horrible, arrogant, conceited jerk. Is that enough fancy words for you?"

He came up to her, too close for comfort. "I saved your life today," he said icily. "I laid my own life on the line for you, and this is the thanks I get?"

She lifted her chin haughtily. "That is your job. That's what you get paid for. You're on Her Majesty's Secret Service. Well I am Her Majesty and you'll do as I say."

"That's not how this works," he said disdainfully. "This is a parliamentary democracy. You have no power. Just because some watery tart threw a bint at you..."

"What?"

"It's a great quote, I just can't remember half of it," he said distractedly. He looked around the room, searching for answers, and surprisingly found it. "A sword! Threw a sword at you." She followed his gaze to a dark corner of the room, where indeed a large sword was mounted to the wall.

"Why is there a sword here?" she asked, confused.

"My cousin's a LARPer," he replied. "My mountain range cousin," he added.

She nodded, and slowly walked up to the sword to look at it. Then she took it off the wall with some difficulty. It was quite heavy. She placed it in front of her, grasping the hilt with both hands, looking very regal and majestic. "But you're wrong," she said imperially. "I do have power." She looked at him. "Kneel."

"Are you going to chop my head off?"

"No," she replied. "Just kneel." He stared back at her and did not move. "Please," she added, and he obliged, wearily approaching and then kneeling in front of her with his eyes on the sword.

"You saved my life today, and for that I am grateful," she continued. She lifted the heavy sword. "I dub thee Sir Rex Buckingham." She lightly touched his shoulder with the sword, before placing it back in front of her.

He looked up at her. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said sincerely.

"You may rise," she said magnanimously, and he got to his feet.

He smiled at her. "You look really cool with that sword."

"Thank you, Sir Rex," she said primly.

"But maybe I'd better put it back?"

"Yes, it's very sharp," she agreed. She lifted the sword and held it out to him on both hands. "A sword for my valiant knight."

"Thank you, my lady," he said, inclining his head. This time she did not correct him.

He carefully put the sword back on the wall and turned around. She was sitting in the ratty old armchair in her beautiful dress, absently swinging her stockinged feet, looking as out of place as a pearl in a bowl of soup.

He sat down in the other chair opposite her and unbuttoned his jacket. "It must have all been very frightening for you today," he started gently.

She pursed her lips and looked away. She did not want to discuss it. He continued, "But I want you to know that I when I saved your life today, I wasn't just doing it because it's my job. That moment, I really wanted to save you."

"I thought you didn't believe in the Monarchy, that you didn't care if I lived or died."

"I never said that. Look, we've had to spend a lot of time together. And what I meant was is that I've come to care about you not as a Princess, or a Queen, but I wanted to save you as a..." He searched for the right word. "civilian."

She looked slightly disgusted at the phrase. "I thought you hated me."

"I never hated you," he said warmly.

"But I've been horrible to you! Always teasing you, making you carry my shopping, always running away so you would have to catch me."

He smiled. "I'll always catch you."

She looked away from his gaze and sighed. "I was a terrible brat."

"I won't say you haven't been difficult, but you didn't ask for this life. Which is another reason why I'm against the Monarchy, by the way. But you can be nice to people. Like in the hospital."

"But those are _sick_ people. And it's part of my _job_.

"But you don't pretend. You really care. I know you do."

She shyly looked away, as if he'd caught her in the worst, most embarrassing crime. Then she stood up and slowly turned her back to him. "I don't even want to be Queen," she said in a hollow voice. He got up, and she slowly turned around. "This was supposed to be Catherine's job one day, not mine. All I ever wanted was to be the wild younger sister, and go to parties, buy more shoes, and get sozzled."

"What?"

"Get drunk. It's British slang."

"Oh," He nodded. "I did not know that because....I never drink."

"Oh Rex, you are too good!" she exclaimed, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and hiding her face against his shoulder. "You are always so strong and silent. You are so dedicated to your job, and I am just a frivolous girl. I could never be a good Queen."

He gently petted her hair. "I know you have a difficult job that you never wanted, but I have faith in you. You'll be a great Queen."

She pulled back and looked at him. "That's high praise coming from a republican."

"I'd vote for you," he said, "as Queen."

She smiled, looking away.

"Or Head of State," he continued, "President. Supreme Ruler of the Galaxy."

She laughed. Then she took his hand in hers. "Thank you. It really means a lot to me." She down looked at their clasped hands. "I don't care about being Queen if I'm not your Queen," she said softly.

He closed the distance between them and gently lifted her chin until she met his eye. "But you are my Queen," he said gently, "Amelia."

She touched his cheek and looked deep into his eyes. "Kiss me, Rex," she said desperately.

"Yes, Your Majesty." He captured her mouth in a searing kiss, holding her tightly to him. 

She clung to him and returned the kiss with equal fervor. They were lost in time, to the world around them, to everthing and everyone except each other in that kiss. Finally she pulled back, breathless. "Make love to me, Rex," she pleaded.

"Yes, my Queen," he acquiesed. He picked her up and carried her to the bed in the corner in one fell swoop. He lay her down gently and they shared another passionate kiss.

"You're amazing," she sighed, as he bent down to kiss her neck.

"I've had a lot of practice," he replied modestly, ripping off her panties from underneath her skirt.

"Oh Rex, I was so jealous of all those girls."

He turned to her. "They meant nothing to me." He looked into her eyes and kissed her deeply. "I didn't know it, but I was yours all along." Holding her gaze he rucked up her skirt and put his hand between her legs. She moaned loadly. "Yes," she pleaded, "make me yours. Now." 

He unzipped his pants and slowly entered her, while she lifted her hand to his cheek. They began to move together, kissing hotly. She pulled him close. "I need you so much. Stay with me, forever."

He stilled and looked deep into her eyes. "I'd do anything for you. I would kill for you. I would die for you."

"Please," she gasped and pulled him close for a desperate kiss. "Never leave me, please." He increased his pace and stroked her to her climax before coming hard, panting into her neck. Breathless, they rolled apart and took stock of their rumpled clothing.

He sighed deeply and looked over at her. "My beautiful Amelia," he said fondly, stroking her hair.

She smiled. "Please Rex, call me Amy."

He looked into her eyes. "I love you, Amy," he said and kissed her. "But my name's really Jake."

"Oh?" she said, arching an eyebrow.

"I'm adopted," he explained. "I'm actually from New York, but I was abandoned at birth and floated across the Atlantic in a reed basket."

She sniffed. "So sad."

"But I'm glad I was," he said warmly, "or I would never have met you."

"I love you, Jake," she said, and kissed him. Then she absently stroked his hair. "And they named you Rex..."

 

**Coda**

"Parliamentary democracy," Amy said approvingly, "that was really nice."

Jake nodded. "I know, I did my research. It's even sexier than mountain range."

**Author's Note:**

> The name Rex means 'King' in Latin.
> 
> “What if everyone in the Royal Family had died except you, and only Rex Buckingham could protect you?” is a quote from [this fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18419117/chapters/43627811#workskin/)


End file.
